


The Time Has Come...For Hair Dye (Or: Emile Regrets Everything)

by shnuffeluv



Series: Danger Gays: The Extras [5]
Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Hair Dyeing, M/M, Married Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/shnuffeluv
Summary: Emile knew that he shouldn't have told Remy he could dye Emile's hair hot pink when Emile got his own therapy practice. But here he was, about to start his own therapy practice, those flippant words he spoke in college being thrown in his face. Some days, hereallyhated Remy's good memory.
Relationships: Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Series: Danger Gays: The Extras [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1462492
Comments: 39
Kudos: 118





	The Time Has Come...For Hair Dye (Or: Emile Regrets Everything)

**Author's Note:**

> Fun little note: according to AO3, this is my 300th work posted to this account! I think that's pretty neat! Also, this references stuff from the first in the series of _Danger Gays,_ but hopefully if you happened to stumble upon it and haven't read that you won't need context.

Emile was reading the newspaper when Remy perked up over his coffee, starting to grin. “Hey, Emile,” he sang.

“Hm?” Emile hummed, still more focused on the newspaper than on Remy.

“You’ve gotten those realtors to rent out a room for you to use as an office with a couple other therapists, right?” Remy asked.

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. “We finalized it yesterday.”

“And you’re not working retail as of two days ago,” Remy said, grinning wider.

Emile glanced over at Remy, slightly unnerved by the mischief in his husband’s eyes. “Yeah,” he said, putting the newspaper down. “What’s your point?”

Remy, delight obvious in his voice, said, “We’re still together, after all these years.”

Emile squinted at Remy. “Rem, I’m not following.”

“You have your own therapy practice. You’re through with ‘the whole retail and college hell thing.’” Remy leaned forward, across the table. “Do you know what that means,  _ mio amore?” _

Emile frowned. He  _ knew _ that Remy had just quoted him, but he couldn’t remember why...oh.  _ Oh. _ “The hair thing,” Emile said.

“The hair thing!” Remy practically squealed. “I get to dye your hair hot pink, and you officially become a manic pixie dream boy!”

Emile felt his stomach sink. “You’re not going to ruin my job over it,” he said. “But I’m certainly going to get some  _ very _ odd looks from my potential clients.”

“Come on, you  _ promised!” _ Remy pouted.

“I’m not saying no! I’m just griping,” Emile sighed.

Remy clapped his hands and said, “Grab an old T-shirt you don’t mind getting bleach on,” Remy instructed. “Probably that one you wore in gym classes in college.”

“Oh boy,” Emile muttered. He got up and followed Remy to their bedroom, and Remy changed into old clothes that were covered in several different kinds of hair dye. Emile opted for that plain white T-shirt he had used in gym and a pair of basketball shorts he never used. “Where are we doing this?”

“Basement bathroom,” Remy said definitively.

The two went down there and Remy pulled out everything he would need to bleach Emile’s hair. He turned on the bathroom fan and sectioned Emile’s hair off with expert efficiency, slipped gloves on and began mixing bleach and developer together. “You’ve had the developer lying in wait, haven’t you?” Emile asked idly as Remy finished mixing the bleach and began applying it to Emile’s hair.

“Oh, yeah, I barely need any developer for my own hair, if I use it at all,” Remy said matter-of-factly. “I knew you were graduating from grad school, bought this, and just waited for you to land your first therapist job.”

Emile hummed his acknowledgement. “I’m going to look like a flamingo, aren’t I?” he asked with a laugh.

“Only a little,” Remy said. “The bleach isn’t getting to you, is it?”

“Nah, the fan’s doing enough,” Emile said.

“Okay, good. First time I tried this I didn’t have the fan turned on, and I nearly passed out. Theo was visiting, remember?” Remy asked.

“Oh, yeah, he was teaching you how to do it,” Emile said.

“Yep, and he told me to turn the fan on, I didn’t listen, and practically fell over when I stood up afterwards. He turned on the fan and forced me to sit on the toilet lid for fifteen minutes before he’d even let me stand with help,” Remy laughed.

Emile laughed too, because that sounded exactly like something Theo would do. Remy moved around and dealt with what little excess bleach and developer he had after finishing Emile’s hair. “Now we just let that sit for a little while, you rinse it out, and in two days, we dye your hair hot pink.”

“I don’t exactly  _ regret _ telling you that you had my blessing to do this, but I  _ am _ questioning my life choices,” Emile informed Remy matter-of-factly.

Remy laughed.

* * *

Three days after Remy had bleached Emile’s hair, Emile had his first official day of work as a therapist. He had decked out his office with tons of cartoon paraphernalia that he had collected but couldn’t put around the house without Remy complaining that he had no places to put anything of his own, like superhero figurines.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. The other therapists had already stared a bit, even after he tried to wave it away by saying he lost a bet. No one was buying it, and Emile knew that he was going to have a hard time explaining this to his patients, if even his own coworkers weren’t believing him.

When he walked out to greet his first patient, he resolved that he needed something interesting to lead with, other than shaking the patient’s hand and saying his name. He led the young woman back, and offered her a smile. “Well, I’m Mister Picani, maybe one day I’ll be a Doctor, but that day is not today,” he said with a little laugh.

She offered him a thin smile. “I like your hair,” she said.

“Oh! Thank you, my husband, uh, dyed it yesterday,” Emile said. “It’s semi-permanent, which means for the next few weeks you’ll be seeing me with my hair like this.”

The woman’s face lit up. “You’re gay?” she asked.

“Bisexual,” Emile said. “But I am familiar with the LGBT community, for certain. Why do you ask?”

“I’m a lesbian,” she said. “One of the reasons I came here was because my last therapist was moving and he said he had known you for a bit, but he never said that you knew the LGBT community. Even though my old therapist tried, I don’t think he completely understood everything I was saying to him.”

“Well, I can’t guarantee I’ll know everything either, but I can try!” Emile chirped. “Now, let’s get some of the boring stuff out of the way and then we can talk about what’s been on your mind.”

The woman nodded, loosening up a bit, and Emile inwardly smiled. Maybe dyeing his hair wasn’t the end of his dignity after all. Maybe some more of his patients would actually open up to him  _ more _ because of this. He hoped that was the case. But he also hoped that he never let that slip in front of Remy, though. Because Remy would insist on dyeing his hair again and much as Emile liked Remy, he wouldn’t want his hair to be a neon rainbow for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

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